


free as i'll ever be

by cinderfell



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Hey Percy Stop Neglecting Your Health, Quality Breakfast Talks With Everybody's Favorite White-Haired Children, Undisclosed Time Post-Chroma Conclave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/pseuds/cinderfell
Summary: Percy is rather awful at taking caring of himself even without the looming threat of dragons, Pike finds.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impossibletruths](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossibletruths/gifts).



> happy birthday ari!! i've never written pike/percy before so, uh, i hope it's alright.
> 
> title lowkey ripped from "send them off!" by bastille

The chance to slow down is a luxury to Pike.

No dragons, no rushing into death’s embrace, nothing pressuring them into danger. It’s such a luxury, in fact, that she has trouble wrapping her head around it. The rest of her family seems to have the same problem; they fill their days to the brim with activities, unaccustomed to the gentle lull life has given them.

Pike’s first small step towards relaxing, she decides, is sleeping in. No waking at the crack of dawn to tend to the temple, at least not today. She’ll be roused if she’s needed, she knows, but she isn’t right now. And it’s a strange feeling not being needed; to be able to take her time, take a deep breath, and just live.

She’s alone in the Whitestone dining room this morning, a bowl of honeyed porridge in her lap as she balances herself on the edge of the table. Not the actual seats, because-- if she’s being honest-- these tables aren’t meant for people of her size, and she has trouble reaching when she sits in a seat. Besides, there isn’t anybody around to see her, so… what’s the harm?

The quiet of the room is broken by the two wooden doors leading in opening up and a very groggy Percival sluggishly making his way in. She feels a brief twinge of embarrassment over sitting on his table, but he seems to pay her no mind. His eyes pass over her briefly and flicker in recognition before he moves forward and takes a seat-- an actual, proper seat-- a few down the table from her, slumping over almost immediately and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Well, she’s familiar with this scene.

“You work late?” Pike asks despite knowing the answer, slowly spooning up her porridge.

Percy grunts in response.

She can’t help but snort, taking another bite of her food and giving him a once-over. Well, he looks awful. Dark circles under his eyes (not that that’s anything unusual for Percy) and unkempt hair (against, nothing unusual for Percy). “You know, you’re really only hurting yourself by staying up that late and skipping meals.” She narrows her eyes at him. “And I know you’ve been skipping meals, so don’t try to lie.”

When he speaks, his voice is low and slightly ragged, and if she didn’t know that it’s like that because he’s worn himself down to the bone-- well, Pike is a simple lady and Percy’s voice is lovely, no matter the condition. “Me? Lie to you? Never.”

She reaches over to playfully smack his arm, and he grins lopsidedly before slowly leaning back in his seat and taking a long, deep breath.

Pike laughs when he hands her his glasses before proceeding to face-plant directly into the dining room table, a drawn-out groan muffled against the wood.

“I know you aren’t fond of magic, much less the divine kind, but would you like me to help?” At her offer, the white head shifts until he’s peering at her through squinted eyes-- no doubt she’s sitting right at that odd point where everything is just a little bit off for him without his glasses, where she’s slightly blurry but not unbearably so. She wiggles her fingers and divine sparks twine around them. “And if you don’t want magic, well, I’m sure I could pull together something herbal from the gardens and kitchen here to help with a migraine and whatever else you have goin’ for you.”

A small smile spreads across his face-- and what a lovely face it is, really-- before he props himself up with his elbow and a hand on his chin, thoughtfully looking her over with a softness in his eyes that she can only describe as fond. “I don’t trust magic or the divine, that’s true, but you should know by now that I trust you wholeheartedly.” The corner of his lips quirks up slightly and she feels a pang in her heart. “I mean, I’d have to trust you. You’ve literally brought me back from death, what, twice now?”

“Which is two times too many,” she responds quietly, and that seems to sober him up slightly.

He straightens, brushing off his shirt, and scoots closer to where she sits on the edge of the table. Pike, more than a little delighted that he trusts her despite his issues with magic and gods if she’s being honest with herself, sets her bowl down at her side before reaching out to cup his face, feeling the rough scratch of stubble beneath her fingers. His eyes flutter shut and his brow scrunches up in the cutest way, and she shoves that down because the last thing she needs is to get distracted by a pretty human and accidentally cast, say, Guiding Bolt instead of Cure Wounds.

Her own eyes close as she focuses, pulling on her connection to Sarenrae until she feels a soft tug in return; a rush of warm, golden energy pulses through her body in waves before coalescing in her fingers and pouring into Percy. She feels him shiver under her touch, despite the warmth of it.

After a moment she pulls away, watching as he sits back and opens his eyes again, blinking.

“Any better?” Pike asks, eyeing him over.

He continues to blink rapidly for a moment before he nods. “Much. Thank you, Pike.”

“Well, that’s good. And you’re welcome,” she hums before shifting her tone into what’s almost chastising. “Really, though. Enough working late. It only messes with your head.”

“Implying my head hasn’t already been messed with,” he shoots back, but it’s not unkind-- it’s just matter-of-fact. She knows how little he values his own safety, of course she does, but hearing him put it so simply makes her chest ache.

“Percy,” she warns, schooling her voice into the one she uses on Grog when he puts something into his mouth that he really, _really_ shouldn’t.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, slowly raising his hands up in a show of defeat.

“I just don’t want you getting yourself hurt,” she says, but the sternness drops off into a gentle concern at the end.

“I know,” he assures, and takes his glasses back when she hands them to him. He puts them on and slowly blinks as he adjusts to them again. “And thank you for worrying. And caring enough to worry.”

She clears her throat, hoping the tips of her ears don’t give her away by flushing red. “Yes, well. It’s sort of my job in this little family, isn’t it? Caring. Worrying. Caring enough to worry.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Percy agrees slowly, a soft frown on his face now. “I just hope you know that we, ah, care about you enough to worry too.”

She gives a small smile. “Well, I hope you don’t worry too much. I try very hard not to worry all of you.”

“And _we_ try very hard not to worry you,” he counters with a raised eyebrow. “We just do a rather awful job of it.”

Pike can’t help but laugh at that. “That you do, that you do.”

For the first time, Percy seems to eye the bowl she set aside. She watches something flicker in his eyes and he licks his lips, and she laughs again. She reaches over and pats him on the shoulder. “Enough talk about worrying, let’s see if we can start making up for those missed meals.”


End file.
